


through this liquor haze

by Anonymous



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Binge Drinking, Character Death, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Family Loss, Financial Issues, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Loss of Control, Loss of Parent(s), Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mother-Son Relationship, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Death, Past Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Teenagers, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "I'm gonna assume you don't want me to ask if you're okay, huh?""What gave it away?""Well, for one, you're shitfaced in the tree house alone."





	through this liquor haze

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [and yet the wheels keep turning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17846309) by Anonymous. 



Larry licked his lips nervously. "Ray, you know I appreciate the bud, but do you have anything stronger?"

"I don't deal in hard drugs, kiddo. Natural stuff only in this apartment."

"That's not really . . ." He sighed. "Booze, Ray. I'm asking for alcohol."

"Oh. There should be some wine in the kitchen cabinets, but I don't really care for the stuff, myself. Janis is the one you'd wanna talk to about that."

"Cool. Thanks, Ray."

"Course. Just drink responsibly, alright?"

Larry had already left the room. 

* * *

Two hours later, the dark-haired teen was holed up in the tree house with a blunt, a bottle of vodka, and a portable stereo blasting Sanity's Fall so loud he thought his head might explode. Elbows propped against his knees, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. A sob rattled within the cage of his chest, only to fumble out through chapped lips and leave his heart feeling heavier than ever. He choked on his own desperate attempts to get enough air into his burning lungs. The blunt was at his mouth once more within moments, and he took a shaky drag from it, coughing as the smoke floated from his parted lips.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. "Y'shouldn've . . ." His throat seemed to close and hot tears streamed down his cheeks. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, holding it as he heard faint creaking from below.

"Larry?"

He sighed again and tried to force himself to sit up, but eventually just slumped back against one of the boxes of his dad's junk. He waited, gazing blankly from under the heavy lids of his eyes as that telltale head of blue hair appeared in the gap in the floor.

"What're you doing up here?"

"What's it look like?" The older boy's speech was slow and clumsy. He took another swig of vodka, grimacing slightly, and refused to look his friend in the face.

Sal sighed. He heaved himself up into the tree house and inched over, eventually coming to sit beside the other. "I'm gonna assume you don't want me to ask if you're okay, huh?"

Larry almost laughed. He couldn't help the slight, bitter smile tugging at his lips. "What gave it away?"

"Well, for one, you're shitfaced in the tree house alone. People who are coping well don't really tend to do that."

"Says the guy who's never been shitfaced in his  _life_."

"Not the point, Larry."

There was a moment of quiet. Sal leaned his head against his friend's shoulder. Larry continued to drink and smoke, not exiling Sal, but not inviting him to join, either. Sal understood, of course; this wasn't the first time Larry had done this in the months since Lisa's death. He "needed" anything he could get his hands on to dull the sharp, stabbing pain of guilt that had made its home in his chest.

"I know how you feel," Sal mumbled eventually.

Larry scoffed instinctively. He flicked the ashes from the end of the blunt and took another drag.

"I'm serious, Larry." His hands shook, but his voice was steady. "My mom's dead, too."

The statement laid over the two of them like a blanket. Larry's obtuse confidence faded away. He brought the blunt to his lips once more.

"I was just a little kid, but I know I'm the one who got her killed." It was becoming harder to speak around the lump in his throat. "I've been in your shoes, Lar. I know exactly what it's like to lose someone you love and blame yourself for it every day, and I'm not leaving your side. Not now, not ever."

Larry sighed, wrapping his arms around Sal's small shoulders and burying his face in one of his pigtails. "Thanks," he choked. His voice was barely audible.

Sal pulled his friend into a tight hug. "'Course, dude. I fuckin' love you."

He didn't trust himself to speak, so a gentle squeeze was his only reply.


End file.
